


Beneath the mask of hatred lies a deep desire

by ChocoNut



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Although this might be the beginning of their feels, F/M, Fluff, Horny Jaime Lannister, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Tension, Smut, horny Brienne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Jaime and Brienne manage to join forces and overpower Locke's men. When they escape and spend the night at a tent, an argument begins, leading to something else, altogether.A Season 3 AU based on the assumption that Locke doesn't send a horde of his men, but only a few, to capture them.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 27
Kudos: 102





	1. The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> More smut writing practice ;)
> 
> EDIT : Chapter 2 added.

“Definitely interested,” he noted, moving over to her corner. “I can see it in your eyes, wench.”

Brienne looked up from the fire, glowering. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“A good fuck—” he sounded strange, as if the stirring in his groin had a mind, a voice of its own “—that’s what you need. We’ve given Locke and his men a slip. We’re on our own again, on the way home.” He massaged his cuff-free wrist, freedom, never before, feeling so wonderful. “If now isn’t the moment for a good time, when is?”

She shot to her feet, using her full height to face him. “I told you I’m not interested in men like you. Do not presume to know things about me, Kingslayer—”

“—Jaime,” he corrected, as usual, stepping closer. “You think I haven’t been noticing the way you’ve been looking at me?” Licking his lips, he let his gaze flicker down to her bosom. “What a warrior needs after a good fight is a—”

“Piss off,” she hissed, standing her ground.

“You know you don't want me to.” He smirked at her need—every inch of her body reeking of it, and her reluctance in admitting it. “If only you would admit you’re interested and take your clothes off for me to—”

She flung herself at him. “Don’t you dare provoke me again,” she snarled, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, her broad hips brushing against his expectant cock, her teats, hard and aroused, pushing into his chest, clamouring for his attention. She glared, the corners of her eyes twitching, her breath fast and urgent—as if her body was begging him to take her right here, in this tent.

Jaime glared back at her, making no attempt to free himself. “Going to kill me, Brienne?”

“If only I had not given my word to Lady Catelyn.” She shoved her face into his, eyes breathing fire down his body. “But you would, without hesitation, now that you aren’t cuffed and bound to my ropes anymore.”

“I wouldn’t,” he found himself admitting. “We need each other, my lady, if we are to stay away from other captors lurking around. Together, we’re a formidable opponent. We just proved it when we escaped Locke. So we might as well kiss and make up—”

“I’d rather kiss a frog than lock lips with _you_ , Kingslayer.” 

Jaime couldn’t resist a smile at her resistance. “If you find a frog as handsome as me—”

She wrestled him down to the floor, and caught unawares by her sudden attack, he found himself flat on his back with the wench straddling him, holding him in place. “If you think you can easily seduce me with all this—”

“I don’t have to,” he pointed out in a hoarse whisper, the storm within him raging, growing out of control when she squirmed against him. His breathing grew heavier, his cock twitching wildly every time she moved, his stomach knotting, the ache building within him at the sight of her, flushed and aroused. Breasts heaving as she panted, her quivering lips, the blazing need in her eyes—she looked like a mare in heat. And he—well, he was only eager to do his bit and give her some relief.

“I told you—”

Jerking his hands free, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face down before she could finish. Her eyes widened with surprise when he pressed his mouth to hers, his lips pushing against hers, angrily consuming her with a wild urgency. Hot and coiled and so fucking aroused, the coarse softness of her lips left him, that he feared he might explode. Jaime wanted to let go, yet, corner her into a surrender at the same time. She parried his attack, kissing him back with vengeance, and he continued to devour her with a hunger he’d never felt before, his tongue sliding between her lips, teasing her to open her mouth and take him in. With a womanly whimper and her hand gripping his arm, she gave in.

And he gave it all he could. He could not deny her, not anything, not tonight, at least.

Breaking away from his mouth, she kissed her way to his ear. “Do it.” Exhaling heavily, she nipped at his earlobe, then straightened again, her hands busy with his shirt, fingers itching to feel bare skin. “Fuck me.”

Dragging her closer, he undid her breeches and languidly slid in a hand, fingers splayed, between her legs. Fuck, she was already wet! She let out a gasp when he skimmed her mound, dousing himself in her arousal, letting his skin soak it in. He let the tip of his finger tease her clit, prodding and caressing it enough to bring her to a girlish squeal, and then reached down, pushing it into her opening.

“Gods!” she moaned, nearly ripping his shirt apart in her agony.

Jaime leaned up to kiss her, to his utter surprise, infusing passion and tenderness and everything he had in it. All along he had brought himself to hate this woman, to despise everything to do with her, to wish her out of his life as soon as his fate would allow it. But his mind began to hum a different tune now. He wanted his cock buried in that tight, hot cunt. He wanted to fuck her with a feral rage that brought them both to their knees. He wanted so much that he didn’t exactly know what he wanted.

His blood pounding, he kept going, plunging his finger in as deep as he could go, pulling out, then going in faster. Her eyes shut, she swayed to the rhythm of his hand, hips rising up to meet his moves, viciously, the sounds she made whenever he raked his thumb across her clit threatening to make him come in his pants.

_Fuck!_

She was close. 

He could make it out from the heat of her body soaking through the fabric of their clothes along the insides of his thighs and shooting straight to his balls, her hands clawing at his shirt for desperate support, the low-pitched raspy noises she made and the desperation with which she bit her lip. He withdrew his hand when she crashed onto him, her breasts crushed against his half-open shirt, her heart thudding against his ribs, and a creeping blush rising up her neck.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, when she raised her head to look into his eyes.

With a torrid gleam taking over those blue eyes, she proceeded to jerk his shirt off, tugging and yanking it across his elbows. “I want you to overpower me—” she began working on her own tunic, frantic fingers tugging at the laces “—fling me down—”

She had to say no more. Shoving her off him, he got to his knees, and what came next was a hasty attempt to do away with clothes. Her nipples, small, yet ably pert and aroused, stood out like little pink pearls against the pale skin of her firm breasts—calling out for him to suck her into oblivion. Her stomach, her hips, and her thighs—the feminine curve of them surprised him. Having always seen her hidden under the metallic cover of her armour, he’d barely expected to uncover a lady. Between her thighs was her cunt, the golden patch, glistening with the aftermath of the treatment he’d meted out to it. 

Tension gripped every inch of his body, and he quivered with varying sensations when she dragged down his pants and uncovered his cock. Her hands cupped him, taking charge of his incredibly hard length, her fingers drumming over his shaft, lightly, teasingly, and when she stroked her way to his balls, he flung her on the haystack and pinned her down with his body.

She caught his glance with a blazing look, as if egging him on, goading him. One hand under her ass, he raised her hips. Sliding into position, he penetrated her, all the pent up desire that had been raging inside him for days, pouring out. Recalling she was a virgin, he took care not to inflict much force into his initiation, but damn—that first thrust felt so fucking good. It was every man’s wild dream come true. 

Deeper, he shoved himself in, and a slight hiss escaped her lips. “Go on,” she grunted, when he paused, worried if he’d hurt her. “Fuck me hard, Kingslayer.”

And he did.

Fiercely hot and deliciously tight—she squeezed and caressed his cock every time he went in, his pleasure rising to the roof with every twist and nudge of her hips. So outrageously wonderful the sensation was, so much beyond the dirty dreams he’d been forced to endure, most of them ending with him helplessly jerking off. Holding her hands above her head with her wrists in his vice-like grip, he ploughed into her over and over, licking and sucking the hell out of her nipples, digging his teeth into her smooth skin, his mouth continuing to relentlessly plunder her until the blood gushed to every part of her, giving her whole body an adorably deep flush.

They began moving together, moaning and rasping, grunting and crying out like animals, their passion, out in the open for anyone who could hear them, unhidden and unashamedly naked. His sweat wasn’t his anymore. Her breath wasn’t hers anymore. Skin rubbed against skin, her soft breasts punished beneath his firm muscles, his coarse chest hair tormenting the tenderness around her nipples. Mouths fused in heated fury, the cries of their arousals mating to a sound another. Jaime was sure this woman was going to be the death of him. Her walls seized him, holding him captive, reluctant to let him go, to keep him bound to her forever. He knew he wasn’t going to last, and from the rising pitch of her cries, he knew she wasn’t going to, either.

His pulse was thundering in his ears, pushing him on, driving him further, to fuck her harder, faster, to show her what it felt like to be a woman.

“Jaime!” 

Her breasts crushing into his chest, she went taut and her heels dug into the back of his thighs, pushing him further in, urging him to finish it off. She spasmed and clenched around him, and he plunged in, bringing her to an end he was certain would shatter him to pieces.

In her pleasure lay buried his, and he came harder than he had ever come in his life. His body caving in to this unbelievable sensation, he sank into her arms, exploding in her, filling her, the tension that had been tormenting him for weeks, at last, draining away, with the last dregs of his climax.

When his mind cleared, he pulled out, collapsing on the ground beside her. Blue eyes met his when he turned to her, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He wasn’t even sure what he felt. Except for one thing.

 _Jaime._ Not the Kingslayer.

He couldn’t hate her. Ever. 


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's musings. The talk. And more.

A mad impulse, they had succumbed to, the moments behind them, a shameless surrender to lust, and she ought to have regretted it as soon as the tidal wave had passed.

So why then—

After countless minutes of lying there, staring at the ceiling, Brienne got up and gathered her clothes when the stony silence began to stifle her. Retreating to a corner and facing away from him, she began wiping herself clean. She smelled of sex and Jaime, and while that should have filled her with revulsion once the fire within her had been doused away, the whole act only left her with a strange sense of longing and a dull emptiness in her chest. 

Chivalry, it had been, when he had put himself before her, protecting her from Locke like a knight would, any lady. And what followed their frantic escape was an uncontrollable desire for the flesh. Where Jaime Lannister was concerned, there could never be more to it. He too, like her, had given in to the fire in his loins, _fucking_ , the only way to calm them down after what they had been through.

Nothing else.

As soon as they’d finished consigning their lust to flames, all he had for her was a brief moment of eye contact. After this fleeting glance that did nothing to reveal what was in his mind, he had turned away, regretting, perhaps, that he had slept with an ugly wench like her. And by now, would even have fallen fast asleep, hoping to get it all out of his head by dawn. A stab of piercing hurt struck her chest as she wiped away the essence of him. The Kingslayer’s whore, she would be known as, if word of this got out. But Jaime—he had always boasted of remaining faithful to the one woman he loved and no whores—not even the prettiest of women could tempt him.

_It had to be the heat of the moment. Nothing else._

Pain and frustration and something more pricking her, she took to her task with a vengeance, rubbing and cleaning away the remnants of his seed and the traces of blood staining her thighs—

“Not so hard. You’ll scrub the skin off.”

The woman in her told her to pull up the towel and cover herself, but shaking hands wouldn’t obey. She didn’t budge. She didn’t turn to face him, either. Not even when soft footsteps made their way to her, stopping mere inches behind her. 

“I tried, but couldn’t sleep.” His breath wafted down her back, the gentleness of its kiss trickling down her spine. “I can’t stop thinking about what just happened, my lady.”

“Nor can I,” she whispered, fist clenched to a ball. He touched her shoulder and she whirled around, unable to hold it back in her anymore. The mercilessly condescending green eyes had a softness to them she’d never seen before, and Brienne was taken aback—that a man like him could look at her like this was surprising.

His eyes wandered over her body, and abashed, she felt a surge of heat rush through her, her nakedness unnerving her. She feasted her eyes on him—only now looking at him properly. She had heard tales of the beauty of the man, but nothing compared to what she saw, what she felt. He stretched his hand to finger the wound on her thigh, the tenderness in his touch sending a jolt up her groin. “I gave you this one, didn’t I?” he said, a shiver of guilt in his voice. “In another time, I suppose.”

She had to agree. “In another time.” She reached to feel the cut on his arm, a mark of the blow he had taken to keep her away from those predators. “I can never even dream of killing you.” She gently ran a finger along its length, not daring to think what might have happened had she been captured alone. “Vow or not.”

“I always knew it.” He smiled—not the cutting, demeaning smirk he usually reserved for her, but one that reached his eyes. “I would trust you with my life, my lady.” 

_So would I._

And it was tormenting her. “What just happened—what was it?” She tried to keep the tremors off her voice, but they wouldn’t go away. “Not that I expect anything from you after our exchange is fulfilled but—”

“I don’t know.” His hand was on her cheek. “But I am quite _interested_ in finding out over the rest of our journey, Brienne. Although, I did get to know a few things during our little _duel_ tonight.”

She tried to stay calm when his thumb caressed her lips. “Like?”

His other hand slid into hers. “I cannot hate you anymore.” 

“Nor can I,” she blurted, fighting hard to keep her lips from trembling.

“And that I’m no longer the Kingslayer anymore,” he went on, a slight edge to his voice. “And that—” 

He leaned, his fingers gently spreading across to the back of her neck, and she breathed in deeply, the scent of him filling her nostrils, her head, all of her, swamping her senses with an exhilaration she’d never felt before. When he kissed her, it was gentle and passionate, sweet and tender, yet, with a deep desire and hunger embedded beneath his softness. Eyes fluttering shut, she let herself be carried away, up and above, to someplace where pain and sadness could never reach her.

“—I am a better choice compared to a frog,” he teased, pulling back after a few glorious seconds. “Your torrid kisses have led me to that conclusion.”

Warmth flooded up her neck, gushing all the way to her ears, and she smiled, recalling the petty insult she’d hurled at him. And he kissed her again. When he led her to their makeshift bed this time, it was no mad scramble for control.

They lay again as one, his strong arm around her, and she snuggled back against him, pressing into his need. His lips drifted down the back of her neck, playing her skin like a flute, the sensation shooting right to her throat, evoking the husky tunes of her need. His beard whispered secrets into her skin, letting her into what he was going through, showering her with words unsaid. 

He pressed her down with his body, his warm skin against hers. He lay kisses all over her, his tongue tasting her slowly this time—lazily, his teeth raking her skin once more. Urgency and patience, both she could sense in him—both, raising her to dizzying heights .

_If seduction were a person, it would be him. If passion had a face, it would be his..._

His fingers tightened on her thigh, staying there for a while, kneading her, massaging her, and when her whimpers gave way to moans, his hand slid up higher, parting her folds, stroking her, playing with her, slaying her over and over again until she sobbed out in pleasure. 

His hips pushed down, the throb and jut of his cock—hard and ready and poised to pleasure her, and his mouth caressed her skin with its silken smoothness again—neck and throat, breasts and stomach, everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched. A beautiful torture. A blissful punishment.

When he entered her, she bit her lip and surrendered, holding him, letting _him_ sink right into every drop of her consciousness. This was no wrestling for dominance, no bloodthirsty duel, no attempt to get the better of each other, but a delightful union of desire and so many underlying emotions. This was a woman uncovering layers of herself she didn’t know existed, in the arms of the man she had least expected to be attracted to. 

When his voice rumbled against the hollow of her throat, she could feel it within her. When his sounds deepened, so did something within her. 

And when she began moving to his rhythm, gasping into his mouth and melting under his touch, Brienne realized that this _something_ was rapidly growing into so much more than that.

She, like him, found herself looking forward to their journey—one, she hoped, didn't end with their destination.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went for a soft gentle lovemaking in this chapter to contrast the angry rough sex in the first. Do let me know what you think.  
> Thank you, as always, for reading and your lovely comments :)


End file.
